


There Wolves

by angelsaves



Category: The Martian - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Praise Kink, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 08:57:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8050138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: There were certain... effects from Mark's time on Mars. He's a werewolf now.





	There Wolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mardia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/gifts).



"There have been certain, uh, effects from your time on Mars," says Beck. He's fiddling with his tablet like he's nervous, which is, of course, doing wonders for Mark's composure.

"Uh-huh," Mark says. "I assume you mean other than the malnutrition and psychological weirdness?"

"Oh, like you were so psychologically normal before." Beck waves this away. "No, there are… others. Remember your reaction to Johanssen's ring?"

"Cheap metal and a compromised immune system, I thought you said." The itchy welt had taken nearly two weeks to heal, but it was finally gone.

"It's sterling silver," Beck tells him. "92.5% pure. Also, your iron and protein cravings are increasing, not decreasing."

"Okay," Mark says.

"Also, the hair on your knuckles is new," Beck goes on. "It's all pointing to one conclusion."

"What's that? Because from my non-medical perspective, it sounds like I'm turning into a werewolf." Mark laughs at his own joke.

After a moment, he realizes that Beck isn't laughing with him. Instead, he asks, "Is there any history of lycanthropy in your family?"

"Beck," Mark says carefully, "werewolves aren't real."

"Mark," Beck says, mimicking his tone, "they are too."

"This isn't _Twilight_ ," Mark insists. "I'm not going to just -- turn into an enormous wolf and fight sparkly vampires and imprint on an _ovum!_ "

"You know a disturbing amount about that series," Beck informs him. "I just feel you should know that. Anyway, definitely not the second or third -- we're pretty sure imprinting is personality- and pheromone-based, not genetic, and there's no such thing as vampires."

Mark squints at him. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"But the wolf thing?" he presses.

"Well, not an _enormous_ wolf," Beck hedges. "A standard-sized one. But yeah -- in two days, when the moon is full on Earth, you're going to shift into wolf form."

"That's absurd," Mark says.

"It was probably latent in you from birth, then activated by the stress of Mars, and able to manifest once you were stable again," Beck says, aggrieved. "It's all very scientific!"

"But what does the phase of the moon on Earth have to do with me now?" Mark demands. "That's what I have a problem with!"

"Your priorities are… interesting," Beck says. "And I don't know. Your wolf knows, or at least that's how the lycanthropologists put it."

"My _wolf_ ," Mark says. "This is so weird."

***

It turns out, though, that this is a contingency NASA actually prepared for: the chance that an astronaut might, while on Hermes, transform into a _fucking wolf_.

"Did you guys know this was possible?" Mark demands at dinner that night, looking at his crewmates in turn.

Martinez shrugs. "My wife's sister is a werewolf."

"It is not uncommon in Germany."

"Wait, you didn't know there was such a thing as werewolves?" Johanssen leans forward. "Did you know that bisexuals are real, too?"

"You're all assholes," he tells them. "Every one of you, except maybe Lewis."

"The University of Chicago really is an ivory tower under a rock," Melissa says. "I'm almost impressed."

"You are _no longer excepted_ ," Mark says. "And anyway, I took part in the world's largest scavenger hunt." He's aware that it's not his finest comeback, but it's been a long, strange day. It does get him a round of golf claps, though, and the conversation moves on to other things.

***

Mark almost forgets about it the next day, busy analyzing samples and doing his daily routine, but the day after -- that's not a good day. He's made entirely of bone pain held together by joint aches, and he's craving red meat, and, God, he wants someone to pet his head. Whether that's a werewolf thing, he's not sure, but he's for damn sure not going to ask Beck.

He spends most of the day lying in his bunk, feeling sorry for himself on more and more levels, and then it's like the pain reaches a crescendo. Distantly, he can hear himself screaming -- it's like his body is ripping apart, every muscle fiber. Everything is blood-red, and he doesn't know how he's going to survive the next moment, oh, God --

\-- and then it's over, and he's a wolf. Beck was right, he's smaller; colors seem less important, but smells, oh, wow, smells are way more so. Everything in the bunk smells like --

"Melissa?" he tries to say, but because he's a wolf now, it comes out as a sort of pathetic whine.

"I'm here," Melissa says. She holds out her hand as she gets up from the floor across from his bed, letting him sniff it.

Her hand smells like her, like salt and minerals and powdered orange juice; it tastes like her, too, when he gently licks her palm, even though he's never tasted Melissa before. More's the pity.

"Feel better now?" she asks, starting to stroke the fur behind his ears. "I hear the first change is the worst, by far."

That's good; Mark likes that idea. He closes his eyes and lets Melissa pet him until he falls asleep.

***

When Mark wakes up, he's human again -- this time, the change didn't even wake him -- and Melissa is still there. "Hi," he says, voice a little gravelly.

"Hi," Melissa says. "How do you feel?"

"Been worse." He takes a swig of water from the glass of water he doesn't remember leaving by the bed. "Thanks for -- you know. Being there."

She sits down next to him on the bed. "I couldn't be there for you on Mars," she says. "I can be here now, so I am."

"You did everything you could," he tells her. "That's not -- I'm not just saying that. I really believe it." This close, she smells even better than he remembers, and he wants to taste her even more.

"Mark," she says softly.

"Is this --" He swallows. "I want to be good for you."

Melissa turns her head and meets his mouth with a kiss. He opens to it gratefully, hopefully, letting her lead him anywhere she wants to go. Their lips part with a soft sound, and she says, "Oh, Mark. You are. You are good for me."

Mark shivers. "Say that again?"

Melissa laughs low in her throat. "Oh, is that how it is?" She pets his hair and says into his ear, "You're a good boy."

"Oh, God," Mark says -- the words go straight to his cock, and he squirms. "Thank you."

"My good boy." She kisses him again, long and dirty. "You're going to be so good for me," she says, and God, _God_ , he wants to.


End file.
